Years ago, in a world long abandoned
by Atlasnix
Summary: "Hey Sammy, I promise that I'll keep you safe, the monster with the yellow eyes won't get you like it got mummy. I promise. And I never break my promises, not like dad does." AU where Azazel got into Deans room before going to get Sam ( for reasons that will eventually come to light), the brothers develop psychic powers and I really hate John. (No slash)
1. Eyes

Hi! Iv'e been trying to write this for a while now and i finally managed it so I quite happy right now. Umm...so I'm really impatiant and I'm bad at editing soooo...you get to read this fresh off the midnight speed editing press.

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"Mum?" Dean asked tugging at his mothers dress.

She broke her concentration from the small letter she was writing to look down to her whining son. If the four year old didnt know better, he would have thought that his mummy had been crying.

Dean groaned out an incoherent sentence with a frustrated pout. "Sweetie, your gonna have to say that again. I didn't quite catch it." Mary giggled, sliding off her seat and kneeling in front of Dean.

He looked up to her with his scrunched up eyebrows and pleading green eyes.

"When is Daddy gonna be home?" He mumbled, playing with the ends of his long blonde hair.

Mary sighed and took her sons free hand. "Come on angel, lets go put you to bed."

"Say goodnight to sammy first." Dean yawned, already attempting to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes. No matter how smart Dean was, he was easily distracted by sleep.

"Yes, of course." Mary smiled brightly and Dean knew that whatever sadness that he had seen in her eyes before was gone.

They entered the large nursery where Sammy slept soundly. Dean hastily let go of Mary's hand and rushed towards the crib to meet his baby brother.

"Night night Sammy..." He paused. "Angels are watching over you." Suddenly he felt all grown up, saying the same thing that Mummy always said to him when he went to bed.

Mary watched on in fascination and affection, her two boys were already beginning to grow up, even if it didn't seem like it, she could almost picture them both as adults.

A sinking feeling of dread seeping into her bones suddenly overtook her.

"Mummy?" Dean said. A single tear rolled down his Mum's face as she stared at him with her lips between her teeth.

"Mum, what's wrong?" He asked, his young, sleepy voice taking on a tone of slight panic.

Mary quickly wiped her tears and picked Dean up. "Nothing, sweetheart. Just thinking about things."

He nodded and carefully grabbed a small fistful of his Mum's long, blond hair, much like his own. "Were you thinking about Daddy?" He asked quietly as they walked down the hall.

"No angel, I was thinking about things that -hopefully- you will never understand. And I especially don't expect you to now, you're just a little boy whether you like it or not, and your gonna have a long childhood where you will never even have to imagine the things that I sometimes think about." Mary whispered softly into her son's ear. He would never realise the amount of desperation her voice held.

Dean couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, he had been trying to wait for Daddy to come home so he can say goodnight, but he was taking too long, Dean was already about to drift off.

Dean snuggled into the crook of his Mum's neck as they walked into his room. "Love you, Mummy." He sighed.

He could feel the soft rumble of Mary's tunefull humming. She gently pulled him off of her and laid him on the small bed. "Love you too." She pushed the hair out of his face and kissed his forehead. "Angels are watching over you." She whispered.

Dean watched his Mum through hooded eyes as she hesitantly left. He didn't notice her tears.

The boy listened to her footsteps as she made her way back to Sammy's nursery. Dean knew that she liked to say goodnight to him alone whenever she went to bed.

He had finally drifted off when he woke to the sound of the front door clicking shut, followed by the groans and gargles of his father's drunken grumbling. Dean recalled the terrifying fight that his parents had the night before, the man hadn't been back since he stormed off.

The little boy curled into his blankets, trying to will himself back to sleep. Minutes passed and he still couldn't fall into the clutches of childish dreams. Gingerly, he opened his eyes to the dull darkness around him.

There was nothing. Then there was a large figure with eyes the colour of amber in the sunlight. It would have been a beautiful coulour, but the eyes themselves were twisted and corroupted in ways that the boy wished he could never see again.

Dean wanted to scream, cry until his Mum ran in and saved him from the creature that had all but appeared infront of him. But all he could do was stare, as if the box in his throat that made the sounds just wasn't there anymore.

Instead, he made a choked sound at the figure and he could swear that he felt his insides slither and crawl. The creature stared as Dean's green eyes welled with tears.

The figure smirked and Dean stilled. A hot pain burned from the inside of his body. He still couldn't move, he couldn't scream. Nobody could help him.

The figure walked slowly towards him. The agonising kind of slow. The sound of boots clicking against the floor echoed through Deans pain filled conscience.

"Shhhh..." The thing's yellow eyes became crescents and a long, gloved finger lifted to its blood red lips.

Deans face scrunched up as he tried to turn away from the sight. Tears ran down from his bloodshot eyes to the bridge of his nose to the green cartoon themed pillow Dean was laying on.

He blinked and the thing was gone.

Dean could feel the shredding pain dissipate into nothing, along with the uncomfortable tightness of his chest. Shakily, he curled in on himself, tucking his head into the space between his knees. If it came back, Dean would rather die then have to look into it's twisted eyes.

However, he didn't have time to come out of his shocked state. A deep cry for his Mum's name jolted him out of the deep trance of yellow that had taken hold of him.

Dean flew from his bead, clawed open the door and scrambled towards the sound of roaring and crackling.

When he spotted his Dad his tiny heart almost stopped. Sammy. Mummy. Dean could feel the heat of the volatile flames licking at his soft skin. He could see the outline of his mum's body glued to the core of the fire.

He knew he couldn't save her.

"Dean! Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back." Sammy. Sammy. He could save Sammy.

Without a glance to the room or his Dad, Dean focused all of his energy on the large bundle of blankets. He ran. He ran until his legs felt like they would break from a slight glance towards them. All the while ignoring the flashing images of the creature with the yellow eyes and his Mummy on fire, on the ceiling.

Every few seconds the little boy felt almost as if he could touch the waves of fear and distress coming from his baby brother. But, then again, that may have been the heat scratching at his tired limbs.

He focused so hard on Sammy that he didn't notice when he was picked up by his father and rushed outside. Every time he looked at his brother, felt what his brother felt, he didn't see the creature with yellow eyes or his Mum laying in the heart of the blazing fire. But that didn't put hisind at ease, what if the creature came after Sammy?

Almost as soon as the boys hit the concrete of the road, blaring sirens and flashing lights overtook Dean's mind.

" _Shhhh..."_

Silently, and unknowingly to everyone, Dean agreed. He would be quiet. As long as the thing didn't hurt Sam, he would not tell anyone about the figure in his bedroom.

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PS: If anyone wants to (wich is very unlikeley) beta or just quickly read before i set it free into the cruel world, please PM me. Cause I have terrible luck in looking for betas. :I

Thanks for reading.


	2. Like mummy

_"Once upon a time, there was a little girl who kept the world safe from the monsters." Her smile was kind and soft, her eyes warm and blue. The dull streetlight soaked through the crevices of the green curtains. "But one day, she fell in love with a boy who didn't know about the monsters. Her mummy and daddy didn't like that and told the girl that she couldn't be in love with the boy-"_

 _"What?! But that's not fair!" Dean shouted. Mary flinched at the outburst. She looked towards her angry and flustered son and chuckled. "Don't worry. Let me carry on." Dean huffed and lay back down onto his bed. He snuggled under the thin covers. "Ok, I'm ready."_

 _"The little girl decided that she would run away from home, and so she did. She ran away but a monster with yellow eyes kidnapped the little boy." Dean gasped childishly._

 _ **...with yellow eyes.**_

 **" _Shhhh..."_**

 _"And so she made a promise to the..."_

 _ **...unknowingly to everyone, Dean agreed, he would be quiet...**_

 _"Please..."_ _**...but then again, that might have been the heat scratching at...**_

 _"No!"_

 _ **...He knew he couldn't save her..**_.

"Dean!"

The boy woke up with a start, drenched in sweat, and dread pooling in his stomach. He clung to the form of his father as the man hovered over him anxiously.

"It's ok. It's ok." His dad wrapped his arms around the boy. He smelt more of alcohol than cigarettes, which was unusual."It was just a dream, there's no reason to cry." He soothed. "Only girls cry. Your not a girl are you?" Dean shook his head and tried to catch his breath, burying himself deeper into the crook of his father's neck.

"Sammy?" He mumbled. He could feel the tears smothered by the cloth of his dad's shirt- could still smell burning flesh mingling with raw fear, but he had to know if Sammy was ok. John sighed and gently (or as gently as John Winchester could) pushed Dean back to sit on the end of the messy hotel room bed.

"He's sleeping in the crib, you were gonna squash him with all that thrashing."

The boy looked up at his father with distress. His eyes flickered back and forth between his dad and brother.

John visibly sagged. It had been 3 days. 3 days since Mary- since _it_ happened and Dean still hadn't let Sam out of his sight or uttered anything other than 'Sammy' and 'Daddy'. John knew that it was just the boy's way of coping with the trauma. But John had his own problems, his own traumas, he didn't need the additional hardship of a mute, PTSD ridden 4-year-old with an odd case of co-dependency.

"Dean. You have to ask me. Use your words." John demanded, his voice probably a little too loud for 5 in the morning.

The boy bit his lip and drew his brows together, he glanced from his dad to brother more insistently. He couldn't say it, the thing with yellow eyes would come and hurt Sammy if he did.

His dad looked on expectantly.

Dean let his eyes linger on his sleeping Sammy. He didn't want him to get hurt but he also didn't like it when dad was angry. His mouth opened but no sound came out. Tears came to the edges of his eyes when he realised that he would rather make his dad shout than risk his brother.

John groaned somewhat viciously. And Dean cringed as tears escaped, sliding down his cheeks and hitting the back of his clenched fists.

Suddenly, Sam woke up wailing, a thing that only made Dean cry more.

His father shot up from where he was kneeling with a frustrated groan that was more of a roar than anything.

'Baby Sammy is hungry' Something whisper in Deans ear and he knew it was right. So he ran towards his brother; pushing gently past his dad.

He could feel the scowl his father was sending his way but he focused on pulling down the tall wooden gate of the crib and lifting his brother into his arms.

The baby quieted immediately.

"Dean, give him here." John seethed, attempting to let go of his pent-up rage with the sentence, but the red still clouded the edge of his vision (or was that the beer from the motels' neighbouring bar?).

The boy just stared down at his brother. Dean didn't know how to feed him, he knew his mummy used to breastfeed him but she had been giving him a powder that turns to milk recently, she also let Dean give him really soft food sometimes.

Eventually, he gave up on figuring it out by himself "He's hungry."

Johns muscles tensed, why did his boy have to take after Mary so much? The way he spoke so softly (and a little croaky from disuse) coupled with the look he gave him - _that_ look - it was just like Mary was standing in front of him.

But she wasn't. 'Cause something - he didn't know what but he was sure as hell gonna find out- killed her and did something to his youngest.

"And how would you know that?" His voice was getting rougher and rougher, drowned by grief and pushed into the world by alcohol. He watched as his little boy shrugged and shrunk into himself. That wasn't like Mary. Mary was as tough as nails and brave as they come, not like other girls.

Dean took all the soft parts of Mary and left out the best bits, leaving her legacy to be tainted. That Scared John and that fear quickly turned to anger.

That was the last straw.

"Dean Michael Winchester you will answer me this instant!"

Dean flinched at the raw anger of his father's voice. He didn't want this. But he didn't want to let the monster hurt Sammy.

John stalked forward and Dean felt tears start to drop rapidly down his cheeks; the blur in his eyes creating a distortion that made his dad's eyes seem to glow a sickly yellow.

Then Sam's quiet whimpers turned to screams as he thrashed in his brother's arms.

Dean hushed him, rocking him like his mum used to do, he tried to make his voice sound like hers but it didn't really work, he didn't know how else to comfort the baby. Dean knew the screaming 6-month-old didn't want him, he wanted his mummy, but for some reason, she wasn't here. Why wasn't she here? He wanted to ask his dad but he didn't want Sammy to get hurt.

John watched as his children seemed to take comfort in each other, Sam cooing and grabbing at deans long, golden hair, Dean staring at the boy whilst he sang absentmindedly.

 _Hey Jude,_

 _Don't make it bad,_

 _Take a sad song and make it better,_

He had never wanted this for his sons- _their_ sons- but without Mary, he just couldn't do it.

So he left the motel room, slamming the door behind him and rushed to the nearest bar to drown the dread and grief in whiskey and beer.

 _Remember to let her into your heart,_

 _Then you can start to make it better._

* * *

Azazel sat on his throne, grinning wildly at the image of the broken family.

He'd done it, he had actually done it.

 _He changed time._


End file.
